


thirty-two ways to cheat life blind

by Donatello (jollypuppet)



Series: the chronicles of stiles' sofa [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Romance, and stiles is a clever dork, in which stiles' dad tries his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-27
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-10 19:50:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jollypuppet/pseuds/Donatello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And that's how Stiles finds himself in a room with Derek halfway through the window on one end and his dad with the doorknob in hand on the other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	thirty-two ways to cheat life blind

**Author's Note:**

> More sofa!verse, hooray! I'm really loving this 'verse, I'm not gonna lie, and I love all the filler because it's fun and cute to write, but we need at least _some_ plot, right? Or at least some forward motion. So have funny shenanigans and the adorable yet confusing relationship between Stiles and his dad.

During the first week of March, there's torrential downpour in Beacon Hills.

There's no thunder or lightning, which is good. Means less power outages and less chance of getting electrocuted, but it seems like there's gallons and gallons of water streaming down Stiles' windows _all the time_ nowadays. It's always raining on the way to school, and during school, and on the way back from school, and at night, and during the weekends, and it just _never stops_.

That's why he can kind of understand why Derek's visits have slowed down a bit within the last few days. Erica and Isaac and Boyd are still laying low from the Argents, but Derek, no doubt, tries to keep up with them and make sure they're alright, like the good pack leader he is, and even Stiles can admit that the amount of rain would make anybody loath to leave a dry area.

He still grabs a couple of movies, though, just in case, and some candy from the convenience store.

It's Saturday when trucks from the local department of public works inch their way slowly down Stiles' street, and, surprisingly enough, there's been a gap in the rain. It's still just as dark outside as it's been, and it's about seven or eight o'clock when his dad comes downstairs, his jacket already on his shoulders.

Stiles looks up from where he's reading an old _Sports Illustrated_ on the sofa. "Going somewhere?" he asks innocently, and he hates to admit it, but it gets his hopes up, even for just a second or two before he squashes it down. It's not that he _wants_ his dad to leave, but he can't deny that he's never bored when he's gone.

He tries not to muse on how nasty that sounds.

The sheriff nods and seems to scan the room quickly -- Stiles isn't sure what he's taking stock of, but he figures it has to be a thing that parents do. "Yeah, one of the guys at the station had a kid recently, so we're going out to celebrate." he answers, his tone a bit absent-minded. "You don't mind, do you?"  
  
Stiles shrugs his shoulders and tosses the magazine onto the coffee table. "No, it's fine." It's more than fine, really, but his dad doesn't have to know about the possibility of a werewolf climbing through his window and watching buddy cop comedies with his son.

His dad nods, unsuspecting and distracted, and he swings the front door open. "I might be out late, so don't stay up too late, alright?" Stiles reassures him that he will as he walks out and the door closes behind him.

For a moment or two, the living room is eerily quiet, eerily still. But then, Stiles shoots up from the sofa, nearly barreling headfirst over the coffee table to get to the living room window. He pops the lock and slides the pane up, and he grins a bit to himself, satisfied.

As he's setting up the DVD player and shutting down all the lights, Derek, like clockwork, makes it to his window and slips his leg in, ducking his head under the top pane of the window as he climbs in.

"You're on time today." Stiles says jokingly, in a pretty good mood for someone who's been stuck in his house for the entire week. Derek rolls his eyes and moves to pull his back leg in.

They hear the front door open before they see it. "Stiles, I forgot my wallet --" Derek freezes, and Stiles whips around.

And that's how Stiles finds himself in a room with Derek halfway through the window on one end and his dad with the doorknob in hand on the other. That's probably where this story probably should have began, because it would have explained a lot more

Stiles swallows thickly, and he can practically feel the tension start to coagulate in the air around him.

There's a loud litany of _no why go away_ and _why did you come back_ and _Derek get the hell out of my house_ running through his head, as if it'll somehow help the situation any, because by now his dad's definitely seen Derek on the other end of the room and it's only a matter of time before Stiles gets grounded for life. His heart's pounding in his ears, and he's certain that Derek can hear it.

Sheriff Stilinski doesn't move from where he's standing, and Stiles is half expecting him to just walk out again. But then, he finally says something. "Stiles," he starts very slowly, his eyes steadily moving from Stiles to Derek and back every few seconds or so, "why is Derek Hale climbing through our living room window?"  
  
Now, there are a lot of ways Stiles can twist this. He could say that they're two friends enjoying a movie together, or he could say that he's sleeping with a twenty-two year old ex-murder suspect, or he can just blow the entire cover and tell his dad about the werewolves. But instead?  


"He's here to burgle us." Stiles replies weakly, and he keeps his gaze on his dad, trying fervently not to look at Derek because the look on his face must be _murderous_.

His dad lets his hand fall from the doorknob and he furrows his brow, his mouth slightly open as he puzzles out the scene in front of him. His eyes flit from Stiles to Derek and back to Stiles two, three, four times, and Stiles wants to say something inane just to cut the silence. But, instead, his dad looks steadily at Derek (though still confused beyond all measure) and quietly asks, "Derek, are you here to burgle us?"

Stiles really wants to throw himself off a cliff then, but he turns slowly -- melodramatically, may he add, and he _hates_ it -- to look at Derek, who still hasn't pulled his back leg into the living room. He looks likes a deer caught in headlights, but after a moment, he replies, "Yes, Mr. Stilinski. I'm here to burgle you."

It's the kindest, most unconvincing confession Stiles has ever heard, and he resists the urge to bite his tongue off.

The sheriff nods understandingly (though Stiles has no doubt in his mind that he doesn't understand a single thing) and he seems to mull his words over in his head. "You know, Derek," he continues, "there's some lawn furniture in the backyard, if you want to --"  
  
"Say no more." Derek cuts him off, and he pulls himself out through the living room again, retreating into the backyard of the Stilinski property to go wait anywhere that isn't the living room.

So that leaves Stiles alone with his dad. Very much alone, and very much busted for bringing one of the town's most suspicious individuals into their household on a regular basis. And here he was, thinking he was gonna get a chance to watch _Hot Fuzz_ and crack open a bag of those weird pretzel M &M things and maybe make out with a guy more than five years older than him.

His grin is, understandably, weak, and his dad points toward the kitchen. His voice sounds much more exasperated than Stiles would have thought, and it leads him to momentarily question his own character. "In the kitchen, Stiles."

"Roger." he mumbles, and he's never walked faster in his life.

\--

"Don't you think they're missing you at the bar?" Stiles asks lamely, leaning against the refrigerator. His dad busies himself by grabbing his wallet from where he left it on the counter and flipping aimlessly through the bills inside.

He shrugs, keeping his eyes on his wallet for the moment. "They won't mind if I'm a few minutes late." he replies, his voice muttered and distracted. Stiles nods, and he hopes that that's indication that his dad doesn't intend to stay long. Then again, with his luck, that's probably unlikely.

A pregnant silence falls over the kitchen, and Stiles starts shifting his weight back and forth. He clears his throat awkwardly. "You know, I don't want it to start raining again while he's out there --"

"Why _is_ he out there, Stiles?"  
  
At the very least, his dad doesn't sound angry, or accusatory, but more just _confused_ and honestly curious. Stiles would wonder why Derek Hale is waiting aimlessly in their backyard, too, but his dad doesn't sound like he's about to give a lecture. He just wants an answer.

Stiles fishes for an answer for a moment or two. Either way, he's going to tell his dad the truth -- there are just varying levels of truth he can tell, and he's pretty sure he's not in a position to mention the whole lycanthropy subject yet. So he shrugs. "I dunno, we hang out and watch movies? Don't friends do that?"  
  
That's the part that his dad seems to be struggling with, though, and he stops fiddling with his wallet, slipping it into his pocket. His brow is furrowed. "You're friends with him?" Again, his tone isn't accusatory, just... horribly, terribly puzzled. "You realize that he was a murder suspect a few months ago, right?"  
  
Stiles chuckles nervously. He puts his finger up as if to make a point. "Yeah, a few months ago, and he was wrongly accused, right? What's in the past is in the past and all that. You know."

"Right." his dad replies, though he hardly sounds convinced. Stiles is getting the horrible urge to bolt out of the room as soon as possible, because he really didn't plan on having this conversation, even if he isn't telling the whole truth. "So how did you become friends with him? To the point that he's climbing through our living room window?"  


So, yeah, that would definitely sound weird in any setting, and Stiles finds himself stumped. He can't even think of a lie that would accurately describe his current relationship with Derek, so he decides to try one of the trickiest cards in the book, and he smiles sheepishly. "It's a really long story, trust me." And he _knows_ it sounds stupid, but he holds his breath for a moment while his dad stares at him, hoping for the best.

His dad eventually sighs, and Stiles takes it as a good sign. "I trust you, Stiles," he says quietly, but he points at Stiles, affirmative, "but if I find out he's been... stealing from us or doing so much as killing our grass or whatever, I won't hesitate to bring him down to the station and talk to him."  


Stiles grins, despite himself, and he's quick to concede. "Yeah, yeah, I get that, no problem." His dad moves in the direction of the living room and Stiles resists the urge to rush him. He pushes himself off the fridge. "I'll keep my eye on him, I promise."  
  
And he winces inwardly because it really makes Derek sound like some hyperactive puppy with an uncontrollable bladder or something, but he just tries to keep in mind that his dad is almost out the door and soon enough his world will be nothing but British humor and making out with a werewolf.

Relief flashes briefly on the sheriff's face. "I'll be honest, I thought you had some girlfriend behind my back or something, and you were bringing her over while I was out." He blinks, and then mutters, "At least you won't get anyone pregnant this way."

Stiles wires his mouth shut. Nope, nobody will get pregnant this way, that's for sure.

His dad makes his way towards the door and Stiles follows behind him like an energetic puppy. The sheriff checks his pockets and grabs the doorknob, eyeing Stiles warily. "Uh... have fun, then. I guess." he says. "And don't stay up too late, I told you that."

Stiles nods and smiles at his dad. "Yeah, sure, have fun!" And if he rushes his dad a little bit at the end, nobody has to know about it, right? But the sheriff double- and triple-checks his pockets before dubiously shutting the door behind him, and Stiles not-so-subtly throws the deadbolt almost immediately.

He stands there, in that same place, and listens carefully. When he finally hears the engine of his dad's car turn over and slowly roll down the road, he bounds back over to the window, but Derek's already beaten him to the punch, leaning against the opposite wall of the living room.

"I was getting impatient." Derek explains with a shrug, though Stiles can hardly be bothered by it. Derek pushes himself off the wall and approaches him. "What did he say?" he asks.

Stiles chuckles. "Just the usual stuff someone would say to their kid about ex-murder suspects." Derek raises his eyebrows. "You know, make sure he's not stealing things, don't let him kill anything, if he spills anything on the carpet, make him clean it up. I'll probably get a more thorough questioning later, but he wanted to get to his friends, I think."

Derek frowns. "So he's alright with me being here?"  
  
"He seemed more confused than anything." Stiles says with a half-shrug. "It'll wear off, though. Maybe he'll forget about it entirely, I dunno." He looks at Derek pointedly. "I mean, would him not wanting you here have even changed anything?"  
  
The older man honestly seems to contemplate the question for a moment, but he reaches forward and wraps one arm around Stiles' waist and leans down, kissing him firmly. "No, it wouldn't have." he says simply, and Stiles laughs.

He figures that he can enjoy an evening of pretzel M&Ms and occasionally forgetting about the movie in favor of more interesting activities, and he can think about how he'll deal with this tomorrow.

And, just like he thought, he wakes up the next morning to find his dad reading the paper, and the look he gets is confused, but otherwise not bothered.

"So you still have a game on Friday?" he asks, folding the paper and setting it down on the counter.

Stiles nods, grinning. "Yeah, if the weather lets up." And it's this odd normality that Stiles has become accustom to recently, with things that have become Derek-related. At first, that normalcy scared him, but he's not so sure anymore.

But he knows things are alright when he goes to drink out of the milk carton and his dad whacks him on the head with the newspaper. So he'll think about it later.


End file.
